Metal Detectors Can, In Fact, Detect Your Iron Will
by Ersatz Writer
Summary: ... And airport security protocols stay the same even if you are a cyborg. Two parts


**A/N:** This was just a humorous idea which came to me one day, partially inspired by a ficlet written by my good friend **Killing Kathy** , so I can't claim it's completely original. Still, it made me laugh. However, since it's mostly cracky, please don't take it too seriously and I hope you will enjoy!

 **Warning:** Possible OOC-ness, Genos being clueless, science being wrong-ness, Saitama can't care less

 **Disclaimer: OPM belongs to ONE**

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Since Saitama had never been on a plane before, and Genos only once as a young child, back when he was human, neither had prepared for the possibility of the cyborg being an actual, walking safety hazard in the eyes of the airport staff.

They'd both been fairly excited – to various degrees – at the prospect of travelling. It was an important call, after all, a long-awaited acknowledgement of their abilities as heroes and, particularly for Genos, a rare opportunity to seek the revenge he had been longing for. The city which they were heading towards neighboured the ruins which had originally been his hometown, so the potential for important clues was great. The plan was to head there as soon as their duties were complete, and as such, the young cyborg's determination increased tenfold in the few days leading up to the date of their flight. He trained harder than ever; observed Saitama with even more intensity – to the point that the bald hero sometimes felt the urge to just throw himself out of the window – and spent much of his hours frowning in nervous anticipation as he prepared himself for what just may be the beginning of his character development.

He couldn't even make it past the metal detectors.

In hindsight, it was obvious that he wouldn't, but Saitama had failed to consider this possibility having never experienced it before and Genos… well, sometimes, he was sure Genos still thought of himself as a human.

Not today.

It was as though they were all watching the unfolding of a beautiful tragedy – the image of a lone figure striding ever onwards down a corridor with only one door, though perhaps without the drama. The inevitability however, was much the same. Genos took a single step that seemed to last forever through the archway, and the metal detectors began to ring.

In fact, 'ringing' was putting it lightly. In reality, it _shrieked_. It screamed like a woman who had just stumbled upon a spider and a murder scene at once and continued to rattle with such alarm even when Genos had moved a good distance away that the airport staff resorted to rebooting its systems in a desperate attempt to keep it quiet.

At which point what felt like half the city had turned their collective gazes round to see just what was happening.

But Genos merely stood and waited with blank obliviousness for the airport staff who approached him now, one hand clutching the scanner in what must have been instinct before he realised what it was that he was attempting to do.

He set the scanner down fairly quickly.

Saitama frowned. He'd not had a good impression of the staff so far, particularly since one of them had spent a good few minutes gesturing vigorously at the top of his head only to be informed that: no, it wasn't a special protective armour of any sort and, alright, _fine_ , it does look a little bit shiny, but it really was skin and _don't ask about the hair just don't_ because by now, he didn't think there was anything left to be picked up from his self-esteem.

To backtrack slightly, Saitama had as many positive things to say about how his day was going as the number of hairs on his head, that is to say, none at all. No one, be they staff in the airport or normal civilians taking flights, had seemed to recognise him as a hero of any sort, C-Class or otherwise. Genos, on the other hand, had bestowed autographs to ten individuals already. Seventeen, counting the one who'd wanted a copy of _each member of his family_ , and had even extended that to include cousins. Which just wasn't acceptable. In Saitama's humble opinion, Genos' fans were obsessive. _Saitama_ definitely didn't need fans and he definitely wasn't bitter because no one had wanted his autograph even when he tried to write Genos' name down instead. Apparently, it just didn't 'mean the same thing'. Even if he'd _tried_ to imitate the cyborg's handwriting perfectly and had only messed up a little bit at the end because he'd crushed the pen concentrating so hard.

At least Genos had been happy to pocket the sad, neglected autograph (of his own name) when the fans had eventually scattered.

Said autograph, however, was currently sitting sullenly upon the counter along with the other trinkets which Genos was being forced to turn out from his pockets, having been called to a stop before he could leave. There was nothing else that the airport really could do without the ability to scan him, and a staff member was questioning him now with the mildly bewildered air of someone who had not noticed a very small clause at the end of their contract and was now proceeding to regret a whole series of life choices which had ultimately led to his current situation.

"So, er, Mr. Genos," said the man, taking out a notebook and pen once the cyborg had emptied everything he held with him. "Do you have any sharp objects about your person?"

Genos looked down at his belongings scattered across the counter, and shook his head. "No."

"… Er… _In_ your person?"

A pause. Genos tilted his head back to consider. "My elbows are pointy." He said, after a moment.

Saitama frowned at the revelation and walked around Genos' back to take a look. They were. He'd never noticed before.

The staff member leaned around the counter and did the same. He seemed to be calculating just how much of his sanity he could still retain if he walked away right now. "Uh…"

"This is the part of my body which connects the forearms to the upper arms." Genos explained hastily, seemingly unaware of the fact that the cause for the man's agitated expression was stemming from an entirely different source – namely, the cyborg himself – and not, in fact, due to a lack of knowledge on the entities known as 'elbows'.

"Um… Well… To be honest, it looks blunt enough to me," commented the man after a moment of blank observation, clearly not having a clue as to what he's saying. "I'm… guessing it's alright. Probably."

"If it would make it easier, I can take them off." Genos offered helpfully, brows creasing in well-intentioned concern. "My arms are detachable. I would hate to cause trouble for other passengers."

"Er…" The man didn't look as though he knew how to react to this unexpected development. Then again, he didn't really appear to know how to react for much of the conversation so far. "I'm… thinking it's probably OK for you to keep your arms on. Really. I mean, uh, how else would you carry your bags?"

"Saitama- _sensei_ is always willing to lend a hand."

"I don't remember saying I'd carry your bags." Saitama muttered from the side. The job was especially unappealing since the cyborg had a hideous tendency to over-pack, and Saitama _really_ didn't fancy having his hands full with luggage whilst his disciple trailed after him decidedly hand- _less_.

But Genos conveniently didn't hear him.

And for a moment, the airport man looked almost, _almost_ tempted at the offer, but after a long pause, evidently decided that accepting a fairly unthreatening cyborg with only slightly pointy elbows on board was the lesser of two evils compared to accepting an entirely unthreatening cyborg without any arms at all. The desire of sanity was winning over all logic, and wisely, he chose to move on before he could come to regret his decision.

"Um… Elbows aside," he said, with a soft 'ahem' to clear his throat, "what, er, do you run on, sir?"

"Run on?" repeated Genos, turning his head now to shoot Saitama a genuinely puzzled expression. "When I run, I run on the ground." He blinked, slowly, mechanics whirring at the motion. "Why, what do you run on?"

"Er, n-no, no, sorry, Mr. Genos. That wasn't what I meant." The man discreetly wiped away a bead of sweat. "I meant, what, er, what exactly is your body powered by?"

"Oh, I see," said Genos, with sudden realisation. "Ah, well, sometimes, _sensei_ and I go visit the local _udon_ noodles restaurant. They have some very good spicy noodles."

The man goggled at him, and a small, choked noise escaped from his throat.

"You mean to tell me," he said, after making a few more, slightly louder, choked noises, "that you run on noodles?"

Genos frowned. "My brain requires food and nutrients, just as yours does."

"You run on spicy noodles."

"I also like potato chips."

"He takes mine sometimes," Saitama felt the sudden need to chime in. "When he thinks I'm not looking."

Despite the total lack of awareness at the effect he was having on the airport man's sanity, Genos, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed at the mention of that incident. "M-My apologies, _sensei_ ," he muttered, shame-faced, his head drooping like the ears of a scolded puppy. "I… I only wanted to uncover the secret to your success."

"And I already told you, chips were the only thing I could afford that time!"

"How," interrupted the airport man now, having finally discovered the correct question to ask without stimulating another odd tangent, "is your mechanical body powered, sir?" His gaze was directed purely upon the cyborg and there was a resignation about him like a man who had already accepted God's judgment. "AA batteries?" He suggested, almost woodenly. "AAA? Is it rechargeable? How many hours does it last?"

Genos only appeared vaguely insulted at the suggestion. "I am not a toy." Delicately, he placed a mechanical hand upon his chest and the lights of his figure glowed warmly even under the layers of his shirt. From deep within, Saitama could hear the low hum of machinery. "I am powered by what Dr. Stench refers to as the 'Core'."

"Uh huh." The man didn't even look surprised anymore. "And could you please explain what that is?"

"It's a miniscule cold fusion reactor which powers my body," explained Genos, and added, before he could be asked: "It contains a continuous process of nuclear fusion which is able to maintain the level of energy my body requires in both combat and daily routines." He paused and hummed in quiet gratitude. "It is a very sophisticated piece of technology. Dr. Stench has… well and truly changed my life."

But the man before him was way beyond appreciating the hidden wonders of science. Far from the vague illusion of calm he had been attempting to assemble previously, his eyes were now popping slightly out from their sockets and definite beads of sweat slid down his face as he eyed the cyborg nervously. "N-Nuclear?"

"Yes. Nuclear fusion is the combination of two or more nuclei travelling at high speeds –"

"Um, yes, thank you," interrupted the man faintly. "I'm aware of what nuclear fusion _is_. B-But… You just stated that you are _powered_ by nuclear processes, am I correct?"

Genos turned to look at Saitama, uncertain as to where these questions were leading. "Yes." He admitted, simply.

"Er, and that's… That's not dangerous? I-I-I mean, could you stop it? Just for the duration of the flight?"

"Oh, no," Genos frowned, seriously. "I would die."

"O-Oh. My." Said the man, having nothing else to say.

"The Core powers my entire body, including the system which provides my brain with the essential conditions necessary for it to function," Genos explained, easily. "If it were to be deactivated, my brain would fail and, similarly, I would die. Within a matter of minutes, if not seconds."

The man blinked.

"Oh, but don't worry. It's very secure," stated Genos reassuringly, having finally noticed the other's strained expression. "Dr. Stench is a brilliant physicist. He has calculated the vessel of the Core precisely so that all the energy it produces is perfectly controlled and directed to do what it needs to do."

A little colour returned to the man's cheeks.

"So it won't explode?" He questioned, voice trembling minutely with relief.

"I don't believe it would."

"You're 100% sure about that?"

"The possibility of an explosion is extremely low."

The man frowned again, clearly unsatisfied with the response. "So… there _is_ a chance that it might explode."

"Well, not really," said Genos, then made the mistake of adding: "Unless I want it to."

There was a moment where the man's face turned so white and his body shook so hard he had to lean on the counter for support.

"Y-Y-You m-mean y-you can…?!"

"Yes," Genos nodded. "Ah, but don't worry, I won't. After all," he repeated, without a hint of gravity, "I'd die."

The man clenched his hand silently around his pen and stared down at the blank notebook he had been failing to take notes in.

Genos looked at him.

"If that's all," he said, finally, "may I leave now?"

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 **A/N:** Stay tuned for part 2! :D Thoughts and reviews would be lovely~ ^_^


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